


The Steady Sea

by saturni_stellis



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturni_stellis/pseuds/saturni_stellis
Summary: Who said Hell had to be fire and brimstone. What if it was ice and snow?Goodsir finally has a moment to come to terms with what he witnessed out on the ice with Lieutenant Gore, and Doctor McDonald is there to help him.
Relationships: Harry D. S. Goodsir & Alexander McDonald, Harry D. S. Goodsir/Alexander McDonald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	The Steady Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/gifts).



Silence descended upon Erebus when Goodsir finally reached the end of his account of what happened to Lieutenant Gore. He wasn’t sure if it was his ears ringing or just the sound of the wind whipping up around the ship that followed him all the way back to sick bay. 

Goodsir was well versed enough in the workings of the mind to know when it was playing tricks on him, but images of the last few days played out before him now; now he finally had the disadvantage of nothing to distract him, no patient to attend to, or sled to pull. His knees buckled, and with a lurch he fell forward, arms reaching out towards something...anything, to stop him from hitting the floor. 

Something, or rather someone, caught him, and with eyes wide and a short gasp, he looked up, not realising anyone had been there watching him. His first thought was of Dr Stanley, strong hands clasping at his arms and crouching beside him, as he tried to make the person out. But eventually it came into focus, and the face that looked upon him was not that of a cold medical stare, but the gentle concern of McDonald, speaking words Goodsir could not hear through the ringing. 

Goodsir’s body went rigid and he gasped for air, suddenly realising why his vision was blurred. Blinking, the tears streamed from his eyes, stinging his cheeks that still burned from the arctic air. He reached out once again, legs finally giving in and he tumbled to the floor. The only thing that saved his knees was McDonald as he held him firmly in a grasp that was unfaltering. 

“I’ve got you…” was just about all he could make out, and in a moment of sheer weakness, Goodsir buried his head in McDonald’s chest, shivering and sobbing uncontrollably as the weight of shock finally overcame him and he crumbled like a small boy in the other man’s arms. To hell with protocol, to hell with dignity… none of that was relevant anymore, certainly not to Gore or the Innuit man - whose corpses lay cold and freezing somewhere on this ship.

After some seconds, the shaking subsided and the sobs quietened, but Goodsir found that what was once a simple task of sucking air into his lungs was the most difficult thing he could manage. His head was spinning, the ringing was deafening and he felt like he was drowning.

A lifetime could have passed and Goodsir did wonder for a moment if he’d died and reached the otherside. What if this was the otherside, and he was bound here on Erebus forever, like some sort of limbo. Who said Hell had to be fire and brimstone, what if it was ice and snow? 

The fog cleared, and the ringing became a distant hum, which eventually faded into nothing and all that was left was someone else breathing against him. Quiet...calm. Like a steady and inviting sea. Goodsir’s hands were fists in the other man’s coat, and despite his breathing returning to normal, McDonald did not loosen his grip around him, holding him close and firm and anchoring him to the floor as they sat silent and still. 

Goodsir closed his eyes, lifting his head only just, so his forehead pressed against McDonald’s chin. 

When he finally found his voice, he whispered against him; “I’m sorry.”

For a moment Goodsir wondered if he’d dreamed the whole thing. Then there was a rush of cold air when McDonald’s body came away from his, and he slowly brought them up together off the floor. 

“It’s hard to imagine the horrors you’ve witnessed over the last forty-eight hours, Mr Goodsir. There is nothing you could possibly be sorry for.”

Goodsir, knees still weak, allowed McDonald to keep a hold of him as he looked up and met with the Doctor’s eyes. “Harry.” he said quietly. 

And with that, McDonald gave him a warm smile that had Goodsir remembering what human kindness could look like.


End file.
